As Time Goes By
by Kristen Elizabeth
Summary: Can a man out of time ever catch up on everything he missed? Captain/TBA
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me.

Author's Notes: When inspiration strikes, you go with it. I hope people like this story as much as my Clint and Natasha story. They will feature heavily, but this one is all about the Captain and...well...you wouldn't want me to give up the other half of the pairing too soon, would you?;)

* * *

As Time Goes By

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

_New York City_

_October 2012_

The Diamond theatre had seen better days around the same time he had, and for that reason it had become one of Steve Rogers' favorite places in Manhattan. Not only was it sparsely attended, which meant the odds of him being recognized were low, but rather than the massive blockbuster movies of the day, it played films with actors he actually recognized. Or 'classics' as they were known now.

He had come to hate that word.

That night, the movie playing was _Casablanca_. He'd heard about it while he'd been in Europe tracking down Hydra bases, but he never imagined it would be seventy years before he got to see it.

On the screen, Ingrid Bergman pleaded with Humphrey Bogart. "_But what about us?_"

"_We'll always have Paris_," he told her. "_We didn't have, we...we lost it until you came to Casablanca. We got it back last night._"

"_When I said I would never leave you._"

Steve drew in a breath and shifted in his seat. Trust a gorgeous dame like Bergman to hit him where it hurt.

"_And you never will. But I've got a job to do, too. Where I'm going, you can't follow. What I've got to do, you can't be any part of. Ilsa, I'm no good at being noble, but it doesn't take much to see that the problems of three little people don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world. Someday you'll understand that._"

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed movement a few rows ahead and a little to the left. Squinting, he could just make out the outlines of two people kissing madly, oblivious to everything but each other.

Rolling his eyes, Steve looked back at the screen just in time to see Bogart lift Bergman's chin. "_Here's looking at you, kid._"

A memory struck him out of the blue. Peggy's face looking up at him as he prepared to leap onto the wheel of Schmidt's plane.

Suddenly, it was all he could do to keep breathing. Standing up, he shuffled his way to the aisle.

* * *

When he emerged from the theatre, he immediately noticed that the temperature had dropped at least twenty degrees. Although he didn't need his brown leather jacket, Steve pulled it on anyway. He drew less attention if he didn't walk through Manhattan in his shirt sleeves on a near-freezing night.

The walk back to Stark Tower, his home for almost six months, took him all the way through the city he had once known like the back of his hand. Truthfully, for as much as it has changed, so much of it had stayed the same. The landmarks were still there...except for the ones that had been wiped out by the Chitauri a few months earlier. It was still New York. It always would be.

At least some things never changed.

When he reached the Tower, Steve fumbled in his jacket pocket for his key card. It only took two tries for him to open the door, a vast improvement over the early days of living there when he'd often had to call up to another member of the team in order to be let inside.

Fortunately, Natasha Romanoff was extremely discreet and never told anyone how many times she had buzzed him in. For that, Steve had decided to tell absolutely no one that she spent almost every night in Clint Barton's apartment.

Rather than head straight for his own floor, Steve took the elevator all the way up to the top level. Although it had once been designed to be Tony Stark's private penthouse, it was now almost communal. The bar was always stocked, the view was second to none, and unlike his own spacious loft, it was rarely empty.

The elevator doors opened and the first thing he saw was Tony Stark kissing his girlfriend, Pepper Potts.

"Oh, wow." Steve shook his head. "Sorry. Excuse me. I'll just..."

"Wait, Steve!" Pulling away from Tony, Pepper ran over and stuck her hand out to stop the doors from closing. "Don't go on our account."

Behind her, Stark wildly gestured for Steve to ignore Pepper and go back downstairs.

Unsure of what to do, but unwilling to argue with a lady, Steve let her take his hand and lead him out into the main room. As they passed by, as soon as Pepper's back was to him, Stark pointed at Steve and drew a line across his throat.

"Tony."

Stark lowered his hand at the sound of Pepper's voice. "Yes, dear?"

"Stop threatening Steve and get him a drink."

Steve shook his head. "That's all right. I don't really drink."

"Now, I know that's not true," Stark said as he walked behind the bar. "There's a dumpster full of empty Kool-Aid packets in the basement that says you do."

"What about a glass of wine?" Pepper suggested, shooting her boyfriend a look.

"It's Kool-Aid for grown-ups," Stark said without missing a beat.

Rather than carry on the conversation, Steven accepted the glass of red wine that Stark poured for him and walked towards the center of the room. The glass doors were closed to keep out the cold night air and a fire was roaring in the massive stone hearth.

"Did you have a nice night out?" Pepper asked as she followed him with the martini Stark made for her.

"Yeah, thanks." Sitting down on the low, white, circular couch, Steve sipped his drink and tried not to wince at its sourness. "I went to see a movie."

"At the Diamond?" Pepper smiled as she sat next to him. "I love that theatre."

He nodded his agreement. "It's nice."

"Bet it's weird not watching movies through a haze of cigarette smoke," Stark said as he joined them with his own martini.

Steve took another sip. "That's one change I was happy to see."

"You know, while I used to love going to the movies by myself, I have to admit, it's more fun when you're with someone." Pepper set her glass down on the table in front of them. "Steve, I realize I might be overstepping here, but I have this really great friend. If you're interested, I could set the whole thing up."

He choked, coughed, and put his fist to his mouth until he recovered. "Miss..." He stopped himself, remembering how she always asked to be called by her nickname. "Pepper. That's real thoughtful of you, but I don't think I'm ready."

"Not ready?" Perched on the back of the couch, Stark continued, "It's been six months. Give or take seventy years."

"Tony," Pepper sighed.

"You're thinking it, too, or you wouldn't be playing matchmaker," he protested.

"I'm not playing matchmaker, I'm just helping out a friend. Two friends!"

"By matching them up. Isn't that the definition of matchmaker?"

Steve hoped that his cheeks didn't look as warm as they felt.

"Tell you what," he said, rising to his feet. "I'll think about it."

Pepper smiled apologetically. "Sure, Steve. Just let me know."

"No pressure," Stark chimed in. He pointed at Steve. "We're here for you, Cap."

Leaving his wine glass behind, Steve escaped back to the elevator and took it down to his floor. Being around Tony and Pepper had made him long for the silence of his room.

His usual routine was to work out before bed, but that night he just showered, brushed his teeth and went straight to bed.

As he lay on his back in the dark, Steve stared up at the ceiling. He'd lied to Pepper; he had absolutely no interest in being set up with one of her friends.

Seven decades might have passed for everyone else, but for him it had only been six months since he'd kissed Peggy and promised to take her dancing. He wasn't like Howard Stark or his son; he couldn't just move on to the next girl.

Peggy was gone. She had been since March 1st, 1998. Over fourteen years. He'd looked it up at the library.

Steve rolled onto his side, punching his pillow into place beneath his head. No woman could ever live up to the one he'd lost. Peggy was the woman he was meant to be with, the woman he should have grown old with.

She was supposed to have been the first woman he ever made love to.

He snorted softly. None of these modern women wanted a 90 year old virgin. He'd known that from the moment he realized he wasn't dreaming and that the world around him was real.

He might have found his place with the Avengers, but he doubted he would ever find another dance partner.

* * *

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me.

Author's Notes: I'm so grateful that so many of you who liked "Remembering Budapest" have found your way to this story, and I'm really happy to see all the new faces, too:) Thank you, and I hope you keep enjoying it!

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As Time Goes By

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

The next morning, Steve woke to the sound of rain on the wall of windows that overlooked the city. Turning his head against his pillow, he watched the downpour for several minutes before the disembodied voice of Stark's electronic butler filled the room, like the alarm clock from hell.

"Good morning, Mr. Rogers," JARVIS said in his clipped voice as the overhead lights flared to life. "It's Saturday, October 20th. The temperature outside is 50 degrees with 100% precipit ..."

"Yes. Thanks," Steve cut the AI off. "I figured out it was raining."

The old-fashioned way. By looking.

"Mr. Stark has asked you to join him in his private observatory in one hour," JARVIS informed him.

Climbing out of bed, Steve frowned. "Really?" In the past six months, he'd spent time in everyone else's living areas except for Stark's. "Just me?"

"The rest of the team have been invited as well."

He padded into the bathroom and reached for his toothbrush. "Why?"

"I couldn't say, sir."

"Has something happened?" Steve asked, loading up the brush with white paste.

"I'm not at liberty to say, sir."

With a sigh, he gave in and started brushing. "Course not," he said around a mouthful of foam. After rinsing, he lifted his head up and looked at his reflection in the mirror.

Sometimes, when he just concentrated on his head and ignored his neck, shoulders and upper body, he could still see skinny, sickly Stevie Rogers staring back at him. Same old hair that stuck up in the back. Same mole on his cheek. Same nose and eyes...those things hadn't been changed by the procedure and they hadn't altered with the passage of time.

With the help of a little hair gel that Clint Barton had recommended, Steve parted and combed his hair into place. He knew the style wasn't exactly in fashion anymore, but it felt so natural that he couldn't imagine himself any other way.

After making himself his usual breakfast...a couple of fried eggs with toast and bacon...he sat down in front of the television and turned it on.

Television. What had been a highly advanced piece of technology in his day was now a 65-inch monstrosity set into the wall of his studio loft. With over nine hundred channels at his disposal, he never should have been bored for the rest of his life, yet there never seemed to be anything good playing.

He flipped through the stations until he landed on the History Channel. At the very least he figured he could use the television to catch up on the seventy years he had missed.

As he ate, Steve watched a program about the first man on the moon. 1969. What might that year have been like for him? He would have been in his forties. Perhaps he and Peggy would have married and settled down. Their children, had they had any, would have been teenagers. Maybe they would have all gathered together around a much smaller television to watch the footage from the moon.

Having lost his appetite, Steve turned the television off and took the remainder of his breakfast to the sink. He had five minutes before he had to be at Stark's observatory and he hated being late.

* * *

Stark was nowhere to be found when Steve entered the observatory. The room was incredible, even more so than the penthouse lounge. Outside, the weather raged on; rain cascaded down the glass walls that surrounded them like they were inside a waterfall.

Dr. Bruce Banner had beaten Steve there. The mild-mannered scientist stood by the window, twisting the bracelet around his wrist as he watched the storm.

"Good morning," Steve greeted him.

Banner turned his head. "Well, you're half right." He looked back at the dark grey sky. "Do you have any idea why we're here?"

"I figured there's been some sort of incident," Steve said. "It's the only thing that makes sense, really."

"Yeah," Banner sighed wearily. "That's what I'm afraid of."

The elevator doors opened just then, revealing Natasha and Clint. As they came into the room, they were very careful to stay several inches apart from each other. Not for the first time, Steve wondered why they were so determined to keep their relationship a secret. Love was so rare and life could be so short. If he could have been with the woman he loved, he would have shouted it from the Tower's balcony instead of doing everything in his power to hide it.

Still, the ex-agents must have had their reasons for making their romance a secret one, so Steve just nodded and smiled when Barton explained that they'd bumped into each other in the elevator.

"Where's Stark?" Natasha asked, crossing her arms over her navy blue shirt. "This is his party."

"That it is." From the far corner of the room, the only side with a non-glass wall, Stark emerged through a hidden door. "Thank you, Miss Rushman. That actually segues nicely into why I've asked you all here."

Her eyes narrowed as she took a seat on the modern style couch, but her expression relaxed a bit when Clint sat down next to her. Although his support came from a safe distance, it was apparently enough to keep her calm when Stark insisted on calling her by one of her undercover handles.

"What's going on?" Banner asked, still twisting his wrist band nervously.

Stark walked to the middle of the room, the reactor in his chest glowing through his T-shirt. "Friends, colleagues..." He glanced at Natasha, "...comrades. I've gathered you here to make an announcement. Perhaps the most important announcement," he paused for effect, "that I will ever make."

"After that lead-in, this had better be good," Barton muttered under his breath. Natasha smirked.

"Lady and gentlemen." Stark closed his eyes, took a deep breath and released it slowly before opening his eyes again. "I have asked Miss Virginia Potts to marry me." After a few seconds of stunned silence, Stark added, "She said 'yes'."

After glancing at the rest of the team, Banner walked over to Stark and held out his hand. "Congratulations. That's real...I mean...wow! Uh...how, how did this...happen?"

While shaking the man's hand, Stark pointed at Steve. "It was the Cap's fault."

Steve pointed to himself. "Me? What did I do?"

"Well, after you left last night, Pepper and I got into a fight and the only way I could make it stop was to propose to her."

Natasha stared at him as if he'd just sprouted another head, complete with a goatee and cocky grin. "You proposed...just to end a fight?"

Stark gave her his best innocent face. "Do you know of a better way, Agent Romanoff?"

"To propose marriage? I can think of a thousand better ways."

Clint leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. "Don't keep us in suspense, Nat."

Was Steve the only one who noticed the way one corner of her full lips turned up at that? "Just tell me you were at least thinking about it before last night," she asked Stark.

"Please. Have you no faith in me?"

Natasha arched an eyebrow. "Very little."

Steve cleared his throat and offered Stark his hand. "This is really great," he forced himself to say. "She's a hell of a gal."

"Yes. Yes, she is, and thank you for noticing."

"Have you set a date?" Barton asked.

"Uh, soon," Stark replied. "Pepper seems to think my life is in danger too often for a long engagement."

"Or maybe she considers the past twelve years time already served," Natasha said, more to Clint than to anyone else.

Steve stepped back as the newly-engaged man went on about how Pepper would have been there with him, but she was already interviewing wedding planners who didn't mind putting on events that had the possibility of being over-run by monsters from another galaxy.

Long ago, he had learned that jealousy was a useless emotion that ate away at a person's heart, leaving no room behind for love or joy. So, he was happy for the couple. He really, honestly was.

But that didn't mean it wasn't going to be hard to smile through their entire wedding day.

* * *

Natasha was the only one who noticed Steve leave, but she didn't mention the look on his face to anyone but Clint. As they rode the elevator back down, her lover pressed both of the buttons for their respective floors, but they both got off on his.

"He just seemed so...lost," Natasha said as Clint made a late breakfast of chocolate pancakes.

Clint's arm muscles rippled as his mixed his batter. "He's still adjusting, but he's doing better than I would if I woke up seventy years from now."

She reached for a chocolate chip before he could pour them into the bowl. "He needs to get laid."

"As long as you don't volunteer, I can't argue with that."

Natasha winked as she popped the bit of chocolate into her mouth.

Twenty minutes later, they were back in bed with a plate of pancakes and a bottle of raspberry syrup.

"I want to help him," she said, swirling a piece of pancake in the syrup on her plate. "Steve." Clint blinked. "He needs some guidance."

"You don't think he can get a date on his own, Nat? He's Captain Freaking America."

"Did you read his file? I would be shocked as hell if he isn't a virgin." Clint choked and coughed. "I'm not kidding, Clint. I saw the pictures of him before. And after...when would he have had time? Not to mention the fact that you can just look at him and tell. He oozes innocence."

Clint shook his head. "Why is this important to you?"

She lowered her fork. "I think he knows about us, but he hasn't said anything to anyone. I feel like I owe him one for that."

"We could stop hiding this," he calmly suggested. "Get out of the closet, so to speak."

"I don't ever want to give any of our enemies leverage over us. Ever. If that means we can't go public..."

Clint tilted his head to the side. "Nat. Come on. The team? They're not exactly the public."

She was quiet for a second. "I don't want to fight, Clint."

"Neither do I," he decided. "So, help Captain America get a date. If anyone can, it'll be you."

Smiling, she dragged her pinkie through the syrup on his plate and offered it to him. With a grin of his own, he lunged forward and closed his hot mouth around her finger.

Breakfast was quickly forgotten.

* * *

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me.

Author's Notes: Thanks so much everyone for all of the amazing feedback! I think there was some worry about Natasha being a little OOC, but it takes a lot of good deeds to wipe clean a ledger that is as red as hers;) I hope you still enjoy the story and come back for more!

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As Time Goes By

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

He didn't get many visitors, so the knock on Steve's door a few hours after Stark's announcement came as a surprise. Stripped down to his khakis, he was almost through a set of five hundred push-ups. His whole torso gleamed with a fine sheen of sweat.

It still wasn't enough to clear his mind of the past. It never was.

Dropping to his knees, Steve picked himself up off the floor and used his discarded shirt to wipe his face clean before he looked through the peephole to see who was calling.

With a puzzled frown, he unlocked and opened the door. "Natasha? Can I help you?"

"No, not really." The red-haired woman they inexplicably called the Black Widow pointed past him, into his loft. "Can I come in?"

His confusion was nowhere near cleared up by her cryptic greeting, but Steve took a step back and let her pass. "I apologize for the mess," he immediately said, closing the door.

She smiled as she looked around the sparsely furnished, impeccably clean (except for a sweaty shirt draped over a chair) studio apartment. "Army boys. You never change. Nothing's ever tidy enough."

"Old habits die hard, I guess." Steve grabbed the shirt, decided it was too damp to put back on, and threw it behind the kitchen counter. "So...can I get you something to drink? I have...um..." He stopped when he realized that all he had was a pitcher of grape Kool-Aid. "Water," he said instead.

"I'm fine."

He watched her walk around the room and take in the few decorative touches he had bothered to put up...like the framed sketch of Peggy that he'd drawn a few days after waking up to this new world.

Before he could stop her, Natasha went straight for it, carefully lifting it from its prime spot at the center of the mantle. "I recognize her," she said. "This is Margaret Carter, isn't it?"

"Peggy," he said a little too quickly. Natasha turned a curious stare towards him. He cleared his throat. "How do you know her?"

"There weren't a lot of women involved in the creation of S.H.I.E.L.D." He must have blinked because she went on, "I take it you knew her personally, though." Steve nodded. "Friends or something more?"

Suddenly feeling quite exposed, Steve crossed his arms over his muscular chest. "That's private."

"It is. I'm sorry." Natasha set the picture back where she'd found it. "Do you know what happened to her?"

"I know that she's dead." He shook his head at the harshness in his tone. "I didn't mean for it to come out like that."

"Takes a lot more than that to offend me," she absolved him. Again, he watched her walk a slow circle around the room. While he didn't mind the view...she could have given Betty Grable a run for her money...he was starting to wonder what she wanted. Finally, she continued, "I suppose you've looked her up online."

He frowned. "I looked her up at the library."

"On the internet?"

"In the archives." Steve hesitated. "I found her death certificate."

"But what about her life?" Natasha wondered. "Too painful?" He lowered his eyes. "Feel free to take this or leave it, but I hear from other people that closure can help you move on."

"Closure?" he repeated.

"Maybe if you find out about her life instead of just her death, it will help you start to live the rest of yours."

Steve stared at Natasha for a moment. "Please don't take this the wrong way, but why do you..."

She cut him off. "We're on the same team. And I'd do the same thing for Bruce or Clint or even Tony."

"You would?" Natasha gave him a pointed look. "Sorry. Yes. Of course you would," he corrected himself. "So..." He scratched the back of his head. "What exactly are you suggesting?"

* * *

"Is this legal?"

With her eyes fixed on the screen in front of her, Natasha smirked. "These files aren't S.H.I.E.L.D.'s, Captain. They're public records."

Standing behind her chair, Steve shifted uncomfortably, tugging at the bottom of the shirt he'd donned while she accessed the computer system he hadn't even realized had come with his apartment. "Just call me Steve. If that's okay."

"It's fine with me," she decided as her fingers flew over the keyboard. "All right...I'm doing a search for Margaret Carter aka Peggy Carter..." She paused. "Hmm."

"Hmm?"

"Here's a Margaret Carter Stanton. Born in 1919 in..."

Steve's voice was strained. "London. It's her." He stared at the name on the screen. "Stanton."

Natasha touched the link. Stark could have all of his amazing holography, but she liked computers that weren't see-through. Still, she had to admit that the thirty-inch touch screen was a thing of beauty.

"Paul Stanton of Hartford, Connecticut. They were married in June of 1954." She dragged the sidebar down. "There's a couple of links after their marriage license."

"What does that mean?"

"Birth certificates." She looked back at him. "They had children, Steve."

His eyes clouded over and his mouth grew tight, but he just nodded. "She deserved to be a mother." Steve swallowed heavily. "I'm glad she found someone."

"I bet those children are still alive," Natasha suggested. "I imagine they'd love to tell you all about her life."

"And what would I tell them? That there's a good chance that if I hadn't landed in the ice, I would have married their mother...and they never would have been born?"

Natasha turned her chair around and leaned back. "They're going to know who you are right away. You really think she never would have mentioned you to her family?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "Part of me hopes I didn't matter enough for her to have mourned me for very long. I don't want to imagine her grieving for me or thinking about me when she was raising her family."

After a second of watching his down-cast face, Natasha shook her head. "You are a rare one, Steve."

"Outdated," he corrected her. "A relic."

"Relics are valuable. Priceless, even." She turned back around and touched the screen a couple of times. "I'm just going to leave these files open. Whether you look at them or not...that's entirely up to you." Natasha stood up. "Closure, Steve."

"I'm still not exactly sure what that means," he admitted.

"Psycho-babble for coming to terms with a loss." She started to walk to the door. "Let me know if you need any more help with the computer. You know where I'll be...don't you?"

Steve rubbed his suddenly-pink cheek. "Your business is yours and not mine."

At the door, Natasha glanced back at him. "Definitely priceless." With a slight nod, she let herself out.

* * *

Steve went through two punching bags before he decided that while contact with Peggy's children would be painful and possibly very awkward, it was also something that he needed to do. It was something she would have wanted him to do.

After grabbing a quick shower, he sat down in front of the computer and started reading.

* * *

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me.

Author's Notes: Thanks so much for sticking with the story. It should start to pick up a little bit now;) Enjoy!

* * *

As Time Goes By

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

Despite a high chance of early snow flurries in the area, Steve decided to take his motorbike to Hartford, even though he had several of Stark's cars at his disposal. Connecticut was only a couple of hours away and he figured that if his mind was on the road, he wouldn't have a chance to talk himself out of going.

He hadn't told anyone about his impromptu trip. Not even Natasha knew that he was going to meet Peggy's husband, the elderly, but very much alive Paul Stanton. Part of him felt like he should have called ahead, to see if he'd even be recognized or welcomed, but it had taken all of his nerve just to look up the address.

Set back from the road a good hundred feet or so, the Stanton house was more like a mansion. Steve sat on his bike for several minutes, staring at the house where Peggy had spent her marriage. He could see her there, Steve decided. The brick house looked strong, but elegant. Sturdy, but beautiful. Exactly the sort of place he would have expected her to love.

Swinging leg over the bike, Steve kicked the stand into place and smoothed down his wind-blown hair. The weather was much colder in the country than it had been in the city, but with his enhanced constitution and his leather jacket, he barely noticed the cold as he walked up the driveway to the front porch.

There was a white, wooden swing hanging at the far end of the veranda. Had Peggy sat there with her children while they were growing up? Or maybe just by herself, rocking while she read or listened to the radio.

He shook his head to clear away the image of Peggy tucked up on the swing and reached out to ring the doorbell.

After a full minute without a response, Steve frowned. As he'd come up the walk, he'd seen two cars in the open garage. Someone was at home. He tried again, this time knocking on the door as well, in case the bell wasn't working.

He had almost given up when suddenly the door opened. An old man with wisps of white hair covering his head stared up at him with accusation.

"If you're here about Jesus, young man, you can turn right around and go find him yourself!"

Steve blinked. "Um...no. No, sir. I'm not here to..." He stopped. "I'm Steve Rogers." He gave the man a second to recognize his name before added, "Um...you might know me as Captain America."

The man's eyes, which had been narrowed in grumpy annoyance, flared open in a moment of recognition, before falling back into their previous state of irritation.

"Captain America," he repeated, like the words tasted bad in his mouth. "Captain America."

Steve nodded. "This is a lot to believe, but if you're Paul Stanton..."

"I am," the man cut him off.

"Then..." Steve hesitated. "I knew your wife, sir. During the war."

"Wife?" Paul looked down, shaking his head. "Knew my wife..." He glanced up. The anger in his expression was gone, having been replaced by a look of confusion that made Steve's stomach twist with sympathy. "Where's my wife?" He stumbled back from the door. "Peggy? Peggy, where are you?"

"Grandpa!" All of a sudden, a woman appeared; she came around in front of Paul, and all Steve could see was her dark ponytail.

And rather shapely backside.

"Grandpa, it's all right," she soothed, as if she'd done it a thousand times before.

"Peggy?" he heard Paul ask the woman, his granddaughter, apparently. Peggy's granddaughter. "Captain America wants to see my Peggy."

Steve was about to start apologizing when the woman glanced over her shoulder, giving him a good look at her face for the first time. He frowned for a second until he realized who she was.

"Agent Hill?"

Nick Fury's right-hand woman sighed. "I had a feeling you'd show up here eventually." She gestured at him. "Come inside, Captain. It's going to start snowing any minute."

* * *

Before she closed the door to his bedroom, Maria Hill took one last look at her grandfather. It had taken almost twenty minutes for him to forget what had just happened downstairs; she had no idea when he would remember it again. If he would remember it at all.

Captain America was waiting right where she'd left him. As she came down the stairs, she saw him standing by the fireplace, looking at the framed pictures that decorated it. She would have been embarrassed (not many people outside her family had ever seen her high school graduation photo), but Rogers only had eyes for one picture in particular.

Her grandparents' wedding portrait.

"They met in New York," she said when she reached the bottom step. Rogers turned around, a faint blush on his cheeks, like he'd been caught rifling through an underwear drawer. "Grandpa was working for Howard Stark. Weapons development. There was a big party. Grandpa always said he knew right away. She was the one."

Approaching the muscled man, Maria slipped her hands into the back pockets of her jeans as she went on, "You know the worst thing about Alzheimer's? He can't remember seeing her across that ballroom. Most days he can't remember her at all. That's why I try not to bring her up. It only upsets him."

"I'm really sorry," Rogers said. "I didn't know." Maria waited for the question she knew had to be coming. "So, you're Peggy's granddaughter?" he eventually asked. She nodded. "On the heli-ship-thing...when we met...you didn't say anything."

She shrugged. "Most people don't know. My grandmother left very big shoes to fill at S.H.I.E.L.D. I'd rather be judged on my own merits."

"And that's why you changed your last name?"

"Just my first. My father's name was Hill."

Rogers frowned. "What was your first name?" She shook her head. "I'm learning the internet; I can look it up," he informed her.

Maria sighed. "Sharon. Sharon Carter Hill."

"Sharon's a nice name."

She cleared her throat and crossed her arms. "Look, I don't mean to sound rude, especially to one of Earth's superheroes, but if Grandpa wakes up again and sees you still here..."

He nodded. "I don't want to upset him any more than I have. I just..." He trailed off.

"Needed to find her?" A moment passed. "From the way Grandma talked about you, I figured you were more than just someone she knew during the war. Then when I was studying up on you a few month ago, I saw the newsreel...the one with you carrying around her picture."

"Your grandmother was...important to me."

"To me, too." There was a noise from upstairs. Maria closed her eyes for a second. "You should go, Captain."

"Steve," he corrected her.

"Do you have a phone with you, Steve?" Maria watched him fumble with the zippered pocket on his jacket in order to produce the latest and most expensive phone on the market. No doubt it was a gift from Tony Stark...and she couldn't help but wonder if Captain America had figured out how to use it.

Taking the phone, Maria added her number to his contacts. "Call me tomorrow. We can meet somewhere and talk."

His smile was sad. "It's a date."

* * *

TBC

A/N: Okay, okay...I know this is a little unorthodox, combining two characters like Maria Hill and Sharon Carter. But there was something about the way Maria looked at Steve on the bridge of the Helicarrier during the movie; it caught my attention. I'm just offering up one explanation, and I hope you'll give me the benefit of the doubt;)


End file.
